


To Grasp The Stars

by GuardianSoulBlade



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4553151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianSoulBlade/pseuds/GuardianSoulBlade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Betrayal. Slavery. Sacrifices. Love. A beloved Senator reduced to little more than a slave, a favor of the Emperor to be passed around among high officials, until the day Palaptine was succeeded by Lord Vader. No matter the circumstances, their love always finds them across the stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Emperor's Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: the song lyrics are from The Heroic Legend of Arslan, whose name I've taken for a character in this story. The gesture of grasping the sun is something Edward Elric does from Fullmetal Alchemist, my favorite story ever.

Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith stood over his former Master, Emperor Palpatine.

"You always underestimated me, my Master, that was your undoing. You intended to live forever, just like your own Master, Darth Plageius the Wise. How tragic for you. I've already seen to it that your clones were destroyed. I attended to that problem before I came here."

"My treacherous Apprentice, you're a fool, like _you_ could bend the galaxy to your will?" Palpatine gasped as he felt his throat slowly constricting. He had almost defeated Lord Vader, but Vader had managed to endure a barrage of Force lightening that damaged his lungs and using his favorite Force technique, the Force choke, he was slowly suffocating him.

"Bending the galaxy to my will is easy; since I let _you_ do all the tyrannical dirty work. I will be the hero, Lord Vader, vanquisher of the evil, tyrant Sheev Palpatine, savior of the Empire!"

Vader pinched his fingers together slowly, making sure his Master's suffering lasted as long as possible. Palpatine struggled, grasping vainly at his own throat, clawing at something that he couldn't see.

"When you forced me to join you I was but a learner, now _I_ am the Master! I always viewed it as a curse, a turn of misfortune, but look at me now, his Imperial Majesty, Darth Vader!"

"The damage to my lungs is manageable, I will outlive you for many years to come, don't worry Master, you'll be a footnote in the Imperial history books."

Vader closed his fingers completely, he heard Sheev Palpatine's death rattle and sneered at the body.

"The galaxy belongs to me!" he proclaimed, stretching out his hands, taking in the Empire that belonged to him.

He called to the Red Guard, "Dispose of the body, get it out of my sight!" he commanded them.

"Yes, my Emperor," they replied. They dragged Palpatine's corpse away.

Vader quickly called for a medical droid, a quick examination of his lungs showed him that he would fully recover, but for the time being the droid suggested a portable respirator, the droid outfitted him with it, it had a vocabulator which Vader would take advantage of, the booming baritone would make him sound terrifying and the noise of his breathing would signal his arrival.

He smiled, the sniveling fools would underestimate him, think he was weak, he enjoyed it when people underestimated him.

Vader sat down at the desk, enjoying his newfound position as ruler of the galaxy. He'd have to prepare some statement of course, some plausible reason for Palpatine's death, assassinated by Force choke was not a great reason. He would pin it on the rebels, the dissidents of course, stating that he'd been off planet at the time of his death, tell of how the assassins had deceived the staff and guards and strangled the poor fragile Emperor to death in his own office.

The murderers had escaped and he would hunt them down, bringing them to "justice".

Mas Ameeda approached him, "My Emperor, Rush Clovis is here to see you."

"See him in," Vader scowled.

Rush Clovis entered the office, bowing stiffly. Vader approached him slowly, taking delibeate steps to establish dominance.

"Senator Clovis," he greeted the man, keeping his voice cool. "What brings you here."

"My Lord Vader," Clovis glanced at him nervously.

" _Emperor_ Vader," Vader corrected sternly. "Palpatine is dead, rebels assassinated him."

"That's tragic, what will become of his palace and belongings?"

"They are mine as I am his successor," Vader stated, leaving no room for argument.

"I hope you will extend to us the same hospitality as your predecessor." He wanted Amidala, no matter what it took to get her, not that he loved her, he only wished to possess her, and the Emperor had always denied him that. Lord Vader was a novice in politics for all his mysterious powers, he could be easily manipulated.

"I will extend no such hospitality!" Vader snapped unexpectedly.

What? Did he not understand that keeping the Senate in line kept them from dissenting? He really was naïve.

"My Master might have tolerated the squabbling of the Senate, doling out favors and boons, but no longer, you'll have to earn my respect before I consider offering you "hospitality"."

"Very well my Emperor," Clovis bowed stiffly. _I'll make you pay for this! She's mine!_

Vader raised an eyebrow at him, "She? Who is _she_?"

Clovis trembled nervously; he couldn't hide his thoughts from Vader. He couldn't lie to him either.

"She's former Senator Padmé Amidala, she serves as a…mistress to Imperial officials," he explained quickly.

"Was she Mistress to Sheev?" he queried. His anger built. Of all the privileges he'd obtained as Supreme Commander, he'd never once seen or heard of the "Emperor's Hospitality" it was a clever bribe, she must be beautiful for his master to use her as a tool to keep the mewling fools happy. But where was his reward for all his service? Had he ever been given such a privilege? No, he hated that sniveling politicians had something he didn't, no one was to deny him anything, especially now.

He relished taking the squabblers pretty new toy from them, especially Rush Clovis, he wanted nothing more than to strangle the man, but he hadn't found a plausible excuse yet.

"No my Emperor, she wasn't. The Emperor had little interest in physical pleasures. But he would reward our loyalty—"

"Enough, now leave Clovis, it seems your business is unimportant, if you wish you may buy her from me." Vader smirked.

"There's no way I can possibly do that, not for all the wealth on Scipio, it's too much!"

"Just how much?" Vader shrugged.

"One billion Imperial Credits, no one has that much, even me!"

" _I_ have a billion Imperial Credits, how unfortunate for you, she belongs to me already," he strode back to the desk. "Guards, please escort Senator Clovis out."

Clovis bowed stiffly. He would have Amidala, he wouldn't let the petulant Emperor take something that was _his_ , it would be a long game, but he was going to win.

* * *

Padmé Naberrie managed to stare up at the artificial sunlight that shone down on her. How long had it been since she'd seen real sunlight? A decade at least.

She reached out her hand to the ceiling, as if she could grasp the artificial sun in her hand, she clenched her fist.

Sheev Palpatine was a cruel man, to the denizens of the galaxy at large, he was the fragile benevolent dictator who'd dissolved the corrupt Galactic Republic, ushering in the glorious Galactic Empire.

It was a sham of course, the Senate was filled with sycophantic beings that would do nothing but pass the Emperor's laws. They only cared about keeping their wealth, prestige and power.

The Empire was even more corrupt than the Republic, Moffs and politicians everywhere, squabbling for their piece of the galaxy.

The Empire was intolerant of disorder; they stamped out every spark of rebellion wherever it flared up.

Padmé had kept her head down, been a good Senator, she'd even refused to engage in "things she couldn't talk about", but the Emperor had dragged her from her home, from her bed, and forced her to become one of his personal slaves.

He'd tortured her personally after she'd arrived at his personal palace, .the Jedi Temple of all places! She'd been stunned he'd turned it into his personal home, but why not? He was an evil Sith wasn't he? What better trophy was there?

She recalled the agony of Force Lightening, how she'd never felt such horrible pain in the entire universe. But that had only been the beginning; the Emperor had enjoyed testing his newest interrogation droids on her, cackling with glee as she screamed in agony.

Then the forced spice addiction, then the "guests" came, "engaged" themselves with her; that was what the Imperial scum called sex now. The Imperials would give her "offers", threats if she refused them. They would "take what they deserved" from her, flowery terms for rape. Of course, they were always told she had consented to see them. A clever lie when the altered space inhibited her speech and motor functions, but not her mind, her mental capacity was fully there and she was completely aware of what was happening around her.

She was known among high ranking Imperial officials as "the Emperor's hospitality".

Sex slaves were hardly a new thing, Moff Delian Mors was widely known to "engage" her female slaves on Ryloth, they just painted over it with flowery language to tone it down, she often called her slaves "servants". Like it made a difference what they were called, slaves were slaves.

She shook her head, so many unwanted memories. Especially…Clovis…why? She had loved him once, but he'd never forgiven her for breaking off their relationship. That his love for her turned to hate so easily made Padmé wondered if Clovis had loved her at all.

Ever the opportunist, Clovis licked the Emperor's boots once Palpatine had formed the Galactic Empire.

He'd taken full advantage of her drugged state, and he was worse, he gloated over her, saying she deserved what he did to her because she was a traitor.

Padmé sighed sadly.

"Mother? Mother are you all right?" Arslan asked.

She turned to glance down at her son, he was the son of Rush Clovis, he didn't exist to the rest of the galaxy, Clovis had offered the Emperor unlimited access to money if he would make his "indiscretion" disappear. Padmé had begged him to legitimize her son, so he could have a life outside of slavery in the Empire. Her pleas fell on deaf ears.

And so Arslan grew up in the Imperial Palace, surrounded by greed, corruption, intrigue and scheming.

"I could ask you the same question," she gave him a lopsided grin as she wiped the blood off her son's mouth. "You got in a fight with an Imperial boy. So, who was he?"

"Some Senator's son," he scowled. "He called you a whore."

"If I were, I would actually be paid, and if only I were paid!" she tried to laugh. She wanted to laugh to keep from crying.

"Mother, don't say that!" he sighed. "It's awful!"

"I know son, I know. I'm only paid for my work during the day. My…evenings are not part of my wages."

"You always fight them mother," Arslan smirked, "Everyone here is awful, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are," Padmé whispered softly.

"Then may the gods strike all of them dead!"

"Arslan! Quiet!" she scolded him. He'd gotten through one beating, he didn't need another.

"You, come to the main hall! The Emperor has arrived!"

"So evil Palpy didn't forget us," Arslan glared.

Palpatine hadn't just restricted pain and suffering to his mother, he endured the interrogation droids and Force Lightening just as often as she did.

He hated all of them, but his mother had raised him well, and he had learned that politicians were good at hiding who they really were from others, he'd done his best to hide his hatred behind a guise of obedience and submission.

"Just keep your head down and be a good boy," Padmé instructed quickly.

They headed into the main hall and gathered with all the slaves in Palpatine's palace. There must be some big important event happening, gatherings like this occurred quite often.

Psdmé hated big events, banquets, parties, it always meant she would have to work, and not just serving tables, no it meant she would have to kriff various Imperial officials; she rarely got to sleep on those nights and was expected to do a full day of work the next day.

"Kneel before your Emperor, you dogs! Down on one knee!" the steward commanded them. They all did as they were told.

Padmé heard it, an ominous sound, breathing; the hard, harsh noise sent a chill down her spine.

That wasn't Palpatine, it was someone else. The elusive Lord Vader, slaves had seen him come and go, but no one ever saw his face.

"My predecessor, Emperor Palpatine is dead, I am now your Lord and Master, to celebrate the life of Sheev Palpatine we'll have a day of mourning and a feast for the highest Imperial Officers and Moffs."

 _Stars no, not again,_ Padmé inwardly cringed She stilled suddenly; she saw Lord Vader's eyes looking over all of them.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Padmé sat in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, it had been a place of meditation for the Jedi if she remembered correctly.

She kissed Arslan's forehead as she began to sing him a song in her native Naboo tongue. It wasn't a known to her people it was something she'd made up for him, he didn't know what it meant, but it was about despair and loss, something she knew very well.

 _These aren't my words_  
_If the whole world only had left hands_  
_Don't be the bastards who hide their right hands_  
_There is nothing beyond this azure_

 _They realized that, stopped looking up at the sky_  
_In the bottomless swamp, look, there's a bottom_  
_In a town growing even more tainted, even now_  
_Even if you just tried to breathe the air_  
_You'd end up breathing in the bad stuff, too_

_All is well_

_Losing, and leaving_  
_Stuff that's unbearable_  
_We lived trying to keep our hands free of things,_  
_But in these hands_  
_You are friend, baby, dream_  
_Before I knew it, in my heart_  
_Was full of things, I had to love all the way_

_All is well_

_And losing, leaving_  
_Even the unbearable stuff_  
_Because I don't want to live my days_  
_Lamenting, unable to keep them safe_  
_You are friend, baby, dream_  
_I'll grow even stronger_  
_These aren't my words_  
_But our words_

She watched him drift off to sleep; she carried him back to their room. Putting him to bed, she returned to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. She splashed water on her face.

She glanced around, no one was there, she began to disrobe to bathe, someone had occupied the 'fresher and she wasn't about to run all over the Imperial palace in search of one.

She hadn't thought to look up or she would have seen a hooded figure watching her.

 _So this is the woman Rush Clovis covets, interesting._ She was beautiful, perhaps a little old for his personal tastes, but he did enjoy the company of women, not often, but he would indulge in pleasure if he wished.

He could order her to go to bed with him, but where would the fun be in that? He wanted Rush Clovis to squirm. What would be better than seducing the object of his desire? Clovis would always claim that Padmé, he believed that was her name, had gone to bed with the Emperor of the galaxy because she was ordered to, not because she wanted to.

This would be amusing, but she had a child, how unfortunate, the boy did bear a strong resemblance to Clovis, but would the Senator use that to his advantage, claiming that Vader took Amidala the boy would be his heir not Vader's?

Politicians, he hated them, many of his advisors were suggesting he take a "tutor", someone to teach him politics. He hated appeasing them, but he had always been the enforcer, he wasn't one to deal with the politicians often.

And he would not show weakness to the squabblers by being inept at their games.

"Lord Speaker, have you given thought to the councilors' advice about a political tutor?"

"Yes, my Emperor," Mas Amedda replied. "I would highly recommend the former Senator Padmé Amidala. She was quite powerful in the Galactic Senate, her moral authority and fierce physical courage caused many to admire her."

"Oh, I _admire_ her," Vader purred softly. "But will she not extol the virtues of the corrupt Republic; she was a staunch defender of it."

"We shall forbid her from speaking of it, unless you wish to hear of it," Ameeda conceded.

"Very well," Vader said, "Leave me be, Lord Speaker."

He continued to gaze down at the unsuspecting woman, she would be his no doubt, and the horror on Rush Clovis' face would be something for him to savor. No one stole from him, ever.

The galaxy was his, _everything_ was his.


	2. Lessons in Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Padmé's political lesson results in a wager and a duel. Vader's short fused temper explodes and he tortures Padmé, leading to dark secrets of her past, and Rush Clovis.

Padmé knew the “rules” as Emperor Vader’s political teacher. Do not speak of the Old Republic or of democracy, only the Imperials and the politics of the New Order.

She’d been explaining the Imperial Charter to him; he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was fascinated by her. The fierce intelligence and well spoken manner pleased him.

She felt his gaze and seemed nervous.

“Please don’t look at me like that. It makes me feel uncomfortable.”

 _Padmé Amidala, why do I have a connection to you?_ Vader thought to himself. There was a connection, but he couldn’t remember why.

“Underlings should always be uncomfortable in the presence of their superiors,” Vader stated, giving her a sidelong glance.

She suddenly placed a hand on her stomach.

“Are you all right you’re not…pregnant are you?”

“Preg...no! No!" she insisted. “Menstruating, I don’t feel well, but it won’t interfere with my ability to teach you, my Emperor. I’m fine.”

“I’ve heard of your illustrious career, such a shame years of your life were wasted, trying to save something that needed to die.”

Padmé stood to her feet enraged, “Take back what you’ve said to me!”

“I speak as I please, you should be careful, slave,” he growled.

“Since you’re the sort that won’t listen to reason, I say we settle this with swords, that is something you understand isn’t it?”

Vader chuckled, oh she was a fun one, it’d been too long since he’d fought with a lightsaber.

“Not your lightsaber, a sword, the old fashioned way, if my Emperor is a magnificent bladebeing then an ordinary sword won’t be much trouble.”

“Fine, what are your terms?”

She glowered at him, walking over; she pulled a sword from a sheath on the wall. “If I win, you apologize and I put a hole in your chest as big as this blade.”

“And what happens if I win?” he queried.

“You can have whatever you want, my boarding ramp or my ass!”

He chuckled, oh; she was wagering her lovely body on this one. He looked forward to wining and claiming his prize.

Vader unsheathed a sword, to her surprise, he saluted her.

"All right, I rather enjoy settling things by force; no matter what it takes I will have what I want."

Padmé rushed at him with the blade, “It’s that superior attitude of yours that makes me sick!”

She began slashing left to right, right to left, he blocked effortlessly, but he was impressed, she knows how to wield a sword, no doubt of that. She wasn’t just swinging wildly, she knew how to fight.

The blades locked and he quickly slipped under her guard, he slammed the pommel into the side of her head, with a quick slash, he cut open her thigh, only a shallow wound, but it would hurt.

They fought until they reached the Room of a Thousand fountains, there was grass there and the new terrain would make the fight more fun, spectators had also gathered to watch the mock duel.

“We could always suspend our duel, at least until you’ve fully recovered.” He offered generously. He was effortlessly dodging her blows, while parrying a few of them.

“Shut up!” Padmé suddenly swept the sword back, flinging grass and dirt in his face. He raised his elbow to shield his eyes.

She brought he blade slamming down at him, he called on the Force to leap up. Her sword hit nothing but grass.

He landed on it, standing on the sword, one knee bent, the other straight, perfectly balance, his blade was at her chin.

Vader laughed, “I enjoy the way you fight my friend, and the lengths you go to, but now you can’t wield your sword unless I move. If you like now would be a good time to submit.”

“You know you talk too much,” Padmé growled. “Now it’s my turn to tell you something. In battle _THIS_ is how you use your mouth!”

She bit down on the tip of his sword and lurched forward, he pulled back, not wanting to stab her and he fell backwards.

She kicked him in the face and he fell backwards. She quickly straddled him; she began punching him in the mouth until his lips started to bleed. Standing up, she backed away

He didn’t mind the blows, he was letting her vent, but now it was time to end it.

“So how do you like the taste of your own blood, my Emperor?” she taunted. “What’s the matter? Is that the first time anyone’s managed to mess up that pretty face of yours?”

She rubbed her wrists.

Vader smiled, she was going to pay for her insults. But he’d be lenient, he had enjoyed their duel, he hadn’t enjoyed himself this much in ages.

“I didn’t want to show you up in front of your own men, but you’re going down!”

She rushed at him to strike him, he caught her arm in a lock and pushed his elbow into her shoulder, letting gravity do the work for him. He twisted her shoulder back to about where it would be dislocated if he pushed it back any more.

“That hurt?” he taunted. “Alas, my friend, I’m afraid this fight is over. Admit defeat or I’ll be forced to dislocate your shoulder! It’s up to you.”

He started twisting her shoulder. “Now choose!”

Padmé gritted her teeth, “You bastard!”

He heard the sickening snap of her shoulder being dislocated. He was impressed she didn’t even scream, not a peep out of her. The audience clapped and dispersed.

He bent down as she clutched her shoulder. Vader cupped her face in his hands. “From now on you belong to me!”

“I will need your help with something. Something that is most precious to me,” he stared at her.

“I now have my own Empire, you’re going to help me keep it, and I shall decide where you will ultimately die, Padmé.”

He got up and walked away.

Later on, she was summoned to his quarters, she tried to hurry, but her wounded thigh didn’t help much.

She was greeted by a scowling Lord Vader as guards grabbed her arms.

“You’re going to pay for insulting me!” he snarled at her.

“My Lord? I’ve insulted you?” Padmé tried to comprehend when she’d done such a thing. She’d already been punished after their swordplay bout; he’d personally dislocated her right shoulder.

“Oh, you’ve insulted me; you kept me waiting when I ordered you to come to me.”

“Stormtroopers, take her to the interrogation room,” Vader ordered. They dragged her away.

She struggled against them as they strapped her in and moved her towards the torture device.

Darth Vader watched as she screamed, writing against the torture device, he watched as the electricity surged through the needles embedded in her ivory skin.

 _She’s stubborn, fiery, and so…_ beautiful. He knows she’s beautiful, but he must teach her a lesson.

“You’re in so much pain, Padmé, and yet you don’t understand why,” Vader’s voice was cool, calm and cold.

“Mercy! Mercy, my Emperor!” she pleaded.

“My mercy is in short supply,” he gazed at her. _Do you break so easily? Men used you as their toy, now I’ll use you as mine._

He gestured to the torturer, he shut off the machine.

“Leave us!” the Emperor ordered. The Stormtroopers and the interrogator left the room.

“Your fear pleases me, you wonder why I’m doing this to you, do you recall that you made me wait? What reason do you have for testing my patience?”

“I-I came to you immediately, my Emperor, but I was on the bottom floor!” she protested, her fear rose as he raised his hand and slapped her.

“That pretty mouth of yours should be silent, unless I order you to speak!” Vader snarled.

_She never ceases to argue with me, she doesn’t know her place!_

He removed his lightsaber and ignited it, she visibly winced. With a gesture of his hands he removed the straps binding her to the platform and forced her hands to rise as he bound her with shackles using his dark powers.

“Now I’m going to cut your pretty face, there’s so many interesting things I can do with this saber, don’t fret, it will be on low power, you’ll suffer no permanent damage, but it will _hurt.”_

Padmé remembered a prophecy the Pontifex of the Brotherhood of Cognizance had given her. It had not come to pass yet.

_“The wheel has begun to turn. Heed my words, struggler. Soon the rain of blood, the likes of which you cannot imagine shall fall down upon you. It will be a storm of death, but take heed struggler. Struggle, endure, contend, for that alone is the sword of one who defies death.”_

Ifshe could endure the tortures of Rush Clovis, she could endure anything Vader did to her.

Vader slashed her across the face, across her nose, leaving a distinctive jagged line.

Her wails of agony made him stronger, fueled his resolve, he would break her until she was perfectly obedient, when her mind was not quite as fiendishly intelligent, he would feign remorse, bandage her wounds, slowly seduce her until the night he would take her to bed and have her—willingly. Then he would gloat by letting Rush Clovis “accidentally” walk in on them in bed. He would relish the horrified look on his face as the woman found release in Vader’s arms.

He need only break her enough that she wouldn’t realize any mercy he gave her was purely manipulation.

He used the blade to graze her left shoulder. He pierced her right thigh as she screamed in pain. Then Vader pierced her abdomen He then pushed her hair back and used the blade to shave the right side of her face.

He suddenly smells something, it’s urine, she’s lost control of her bodily functions. He’s seen men do that, but by now they’re usually begging and crying for it to stop.

He wants to see her cry; her tears would be liquid gems he would wipe away and savor.

Vader gazes down at her, she’s still so beautiful, even with her marred face, smelling like sweat and urine, she’s still radiant and lovely.

“Are you afraid to die Padmé? Beg me for your life; it will give me great pleasure to hear you beg!” Vader gripped her hair, and tilted her head up to stare at him.

“I’m not afraid to die,” she whispered softly. “I’m barely alive; I’ve been slowly dying for the last ten years.”

The Emperor frowned, she had no physical defects, and he knew her medical history. Palpatine had indeed used her as a tool to keep his high officials in line, win the Emperor’s favor and he would reward you with one night with a lovely young woman, she’d do whatever you wanted between the sheets, no matter how lewd or vulgar the request was. The only condition was that the man use protection.

“Explain yourself,” he said in a low tone.

“Do you know what it’s like? To be passed around among strangers, to have them pin you down and violate you over and over, and because you’re in a spice haze, you can’t fight back? Have you ever had anyone urinate on you because they find it arousing, or tied up with ropes too tight that it cuts off your circulation and your arms go numb?   Where most men you see are sweaty, creepy and shove their equipment down your throat until you nearly choke on your own vomit?!”

“I’ve heard of such things,” he mused. He did recall the one about tying up your partner, it did seem odd, he didn’t get it at all.

“Most people with partners who do those things have _consent_! They do such things because they want to! I never had a choice, _never_!   I’ve seen the way you look at me; you want me as much as any of them! Go on, do it! I cannot refuse!”

“Yes, that’s true, but don’t fear for your body that way, I won’t force you, I’m Emperor of the galaxy, not some two-bit gutter trash _sleemo_!”

_How dare she think I’m lecherous scum! I want her yes, but it’s not worth it if she’s not calling my name, begging me for her pleasure, forcing a woman’s for a coward. And her boy, he would swear vengeance on me, such hate would make him powerful, my reign will not be undone by unbridled lust!_

He hadn’t had the time to take a consort; he’d been busy adjusting himself to his newfound position as Emperor of the galaxy and learning the games of politics from _her_ of all people.

He did understand that many dictators were thrown down when they pushed things too far.

Many times it had to do with economics or freedom, but what was usually the breaking point was when the ruler would take to filling his bed with beautiful women. Usually ones who were promised to others or worse, _married_ to someone else.

_Stay focused! She’s too much of a distraction. Her mental fortitude is impressive! I shall break her!_

Vade released her hair but leaned into her face.

“Now I’m going to use a little Force technique I invented, it forces you to relive the worst moments of your life over and over, it manifests itself as physical pain. It’ll be interesting to watch your memories. What will yours be? Hmm?”

Vader was delighted when she started screaming. At first.

He pushed into her mind; he could see the scene playing out before him like a holovid.

A fine Imperial suite. One for the wealthiest members of the Imperial government. He could see Padmé, naked chained up to the ceiling.

Rush Clovis was there, he was…no, stars and planets, just _no_.

Vader had considered himself above morality, notions of right and wrong meant nothing to him. But this, this was _wrong_ , so wrong.

The man was a sadist, the brutality of the rape was beyond even the horror stories he’d heard during various missions during his days as a Jedi.

Clovis was sneering, he had friends, were they all going to… _no_ ….

The boy Arslan, he was there too. Wasn’t he their son?

Vader had always assumed they were secret lovers, hiding their relationship from the Emperor. He assumed the boy was born because they continued to see each other. He’d assumed such things because of Clovis’ possessive nature regarding Amidala. Apparently, he’d assumed incorrectly, and was horrified by the truth.

Arslan was screaming, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! _I’ll kill you_!”

He managed to grab a knife, he ran straight at his father, barely nine years old it wasn’t like he could actually do anything.

Clovis’ friends grabbed the boy and pinned him to the ground, they forced him to watch.

Padmé’s screams.

Clovis’ grunting, his degrading words.

Arslan was swearing vengeance and unutterable expletives no nine year old should know.

Padmé’s screams.

Vader had no words to describe this. He never wanted to describe this. He wanted to reach into his skull and gouge out his eyes. Even blind he would see these images forever.

Clovis moved behind her, he started again.

He saw Padmé look to her son, the tears streaming down her face, _“Don’t look at me!”_

Darth Vader felt his heart shatter. He broke the mental link with her; he clutched his skull, groaning.

Instead of breaking her, she’d broken him.

How had she managed to not go insane?

She beat him at his own game and didn’t even know it!

He grabbed her throat suddenly, he was a thought away from crushing the life out of her when he saw a small necklace around her neck, he pulled it out from her shirt.

It was a piece of Japor snippet, small designs carved into it. He stopped, completely.

Ever since he’d heard her name, it had been nagging at him, that he knew her somehow. The necklace confirmed it.

But it was impossible; surely her name was a common one on Naboo.

He hadn’t seen her in 23 years.

He let her go.

“Guards!” he called quickly. “Escort Padmé to the medical bay, put her in the bacta tank and let her rest for three days. She’s no good to me dead.”

He turned and stalked out of the room, too disturbed by his mental probe to think of anything else.


	3. Of Philosophers and Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader contemplates Padmé’s mind probe. Later he makes known his intentions to abandon the Death Star's construction. Padmé questions his motives and he notices her son is strong in the force. But why does Vader want private resources?

Darth Vader paced back and forth in his bedchamber, Padmé’s memories…why had she not avenged herself? If he had been in her place, the first thing he would have done was find a way to kill Rush Clovis. The hideous little man did not deserve to breathe.

Vader tried not to think back to when he had lived under his other name, Anakin Skywalker, no he did not view Anakin as being dead, he just chose to embrace his life as a Sith, and Darth Vader was his true name, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know that sex slaves existed.

He knew they did, the sight of a beautiful woman chained to the revolting Jabba the Hutt was a constant reminder of that, sure Jabba himself didn’t have sex, but that didn’t mean he didn’t let his human guests have their fill of his female slaves, no matter what species.

As a little boy, when he had been owned by Gardula the Hutt, he constantly prayed that his mother would not be subjected to such things, she was an older woman, but there were beings out there that didn’t care how old you were, if you were capable, they’d force you to into bed with them. The Force had been kind to her; no horrible letches had so much as given his mother a glance.

Darth Vader sighed; he put the lovely Padmé Amidala out of his mind. He didn’t have time to keep brooding over the woman; he had a meeting to attend.

He entered his throne room and sat down. Tarkin, Conan Motti and Cassio Tagge approached him.

“My Emperor, we must have a serious discussion about the Death Star, it is far behind schedule,” Tarkin said curtly. “I request we make the battle station our highest priority.”

“And what of the Rebellion, they keep attacking us, disrupting the supply lines, stealing our weapons. Even if we stamp them out it will still be another ten years before the Death Star is completed!” Cassio Tagge added.

“But we need the station,” Conan Motti added. “Fear will keep them in line, fear of the battle station. It is the ultimate power in the universe, I suggest we finish it and use it!”

Lord Vader frowned. He had always despised the Death Star; it was such a waste of Imperial resources. His former Master’s obsession with powerful weapons annoyed Vader; the Force was the mightiest weapon of all, not a space station that could be destroyed by anyone who was Force sensitive.

He crossed his arms and sneered at the Grand Moff and the other Imperials.

“Don’t be too proud of this technological terror you’re constructing. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force!”

“Don’t try to frighten us with your sorcerer’s ways my Emperor, your sad devotion to that ancient religion hasn’t done you much good—”

“This is blasphemy; you should have kept your mouth shut Motti!” Vader snapped, he closed his fist and watched in amusement as Motti clutched his throat.

“My Emperor, Lord Vader, release him!” Tarkin begged. The Emperor’s legendary temper was out of control. This was bad.

“Stay out of this Grand Moff; he’s paying the price for insulting me!”

Motti gagged, clutched his throat and dropped dead, his head smacked against the table.

“Does anyone have anything else to say regarding the Death Star?”

Not one Imperial officer said a word.

“Let it be known that the Death Star project has been scrapped. All resources and funds will go towards urban renewal projects across the galaxy, to ensure better lives for loyal citizens of the Empire.”

“My Emperor, you can’t possibly—” Tarkin protested.

Suddenly, the door opened and Vader saw Padmé Amidala bowing before him, she was accompanied by Imperial Senator Tyreca Bremack.

“My Emperor, Senator Tyreca Bremack is here to see you,” Padmé told him. She kept her head down.

“Please come in Padmé, would the former Senator of Naboo humor the Emperor with her thoughts on the illustrious Death Star Grand Moff Tarkin was constructing?”

“Was?” Padmé had heard rumors of the Death Star as a mysterious Separatist weapon, but she’d never seen it before. She knew that from drunken Imperials that slept with her often bragged about how they were constructing the super weapon, she had the alcohol to thank for that information.

“I have halted the construction; it is a waste of Imperial resources.”

_You’re very clever Lord Vader, showing them you can do whatever you want, and no matter what happens you look like the “good guy”. I see what you’re doing, Willhuff Tarkin won’t ever stop building the weapon, and whenever the public learns about it, you’ll look like the hero, with Tarkin as the evil vizier. You learned from me too well. You took everything I taught you about politics and used it to manipulate people to make yourself look like a shining knight to the public, while being a horrible dictator in private. A clever way to win the mob._

“In my honest opinion, my Emperor, Grand Moff Tarkin is a fool. The more you tighten your grip, the more star systems slip though your fingers!”

Tarkin jumped up from his seat, bounded over to where Padmé was and slapped her. His strong reaction to her words surprised Vader. Willhuff raised his fist again, only to find he couldn’t move it.

“She speaks because I wish her to speak Tarkin,” Vader growled.

“But her dissidents and rebellion must be silenced!” Tarkin retorted.

“Let the dissidents rage and scream, in time the good citizens will see the Empire is benevolent and will ignore the rabble rousing when they see all the good my reforms will do to erase the misery my Master brought on the galaxy.”

“Permission to speak my Emperor?” Senator Bremack asked.

“Speak freely Senator,” he nodded at her.

"Why are men so preoccupied by bloodshed? Shouldn’t we be focusing on bettering the Empire?”

“Peace can only be kept through strength of arms, which is why Emperor Vader’s decree to stop construction of the Death Star is foolish one!” Tarkin scowled.

The others began to argue for and against the Emperor’s decision.

Padmé stood and raised her voice, placing her hands on the table.

“Why are most men so preoccupied by bloodshed? That is what you asked the Emperor earlier is it not?”

“Yes,” Tyreca nodded.

“It’s true that men possess a side that is rather savage, as you have already observed, but its purpose is to win things that are precious, as well as project them. You could say it’s like a double-edged sword.”

“Are precious things those you love—I mean honor,” Tyreca glanced nervously. She noticed the Emperor was listening. Like he’d care about the words of some lowly slave, she’d hoped to keep him interested in her, but Vader was not looking at Senator Bremack.

Vader was indeed interested what Padmé had to say, the fact that her opposing views riled up the Imperial officers and Moffs so much was amusing to him. It’d been a long time since he’d been so entertained.

“Love and honor are both important things. They are things a Stormtooper is willing to die for. It’s the reason they take up arms. However for a man, I believe there is something that goes beyond that; something even more precious.”

“Something more precious?” Tyreca asked curiously.

“They are driven to pursue it. So driven, they do it entirely for their own sake. It’s their dream.”

Tyreca was astonished that there was a brilliant philosopher among Emperor Vader’s lowly slaves.

“A dream…” Vader said in a whisper no one heard. It was as if he’d realized it for the first time.

Padmé leaned on the table.

"Men yearn for their dreams, regardless of their class, and no matter what their achievements have been. One can be sustained by their dream, hurt by their dream, revived by their dream. Or even killed by it. And even though one might be abandoned by his own dream, it even then will smolder in his heart forever. One should know what it feels like to strive for such goals. To willingly martyr yourself to the God named Dream. I find it abhorrent to live out my life for no other reason than I was born into it."

Padmé laughed, “I’m sorry, I do hope I haven’t been boring you my Emperor.”

“No, no, I find you fascinating! When you share your thoughts you’re like a philosopher.” Vader grinned at her, “Your friends must be fascinated by you. You were the Queen of Naboo long ago weren’t you?”

She smiled sadly at him.

“They were my solders, and they would follow me into the jaws of death for the sake of my dream, but it doesn’t make them my friends. A friend should never subsist on another’s dream.   The man who would be my friend must have a reason for living that goes beyond me. And he should put his heart and soul into protecting that dream, even if it means opposing me.”

SHe looked out at them.

“For me to call a man my friend, he must be my equal in every respect.”

“Padmé, would you share your dream with me?” Vader asked, his curiosity piqued.

She met his gaze, “In private my Emperor, when you’re free of your duties.”

Padmé got up and bowed before the Emperor. She went over and stood at the door.

The door open and a strange man, one Vader had never seen stood in front of him.

“Kneel before your Emperor!” Vader ordered. The strange man with the Rodian eye disobeyed the order, he glared at Darth Vader.

“You are not my Emperor,” the man sneered at Vader, “You’re not worthy to be his successor.”

Vader waved him off dismissively, hiding his rage. The man hadn’t even given Vader his name. He was going to have to remedy that, and he acted so sure of himself.

Vader would find out who he was.

“Only time will tell if your statement is true sir,” Vader turned his attention to the other advisors and the Imperial Ruling Council.

“This meeting is over, return to your duties, let it be known that the Death Star construction has been canceled!”

The meeting was adjourned and Vader was left alone. He looked to Mas Amedda. “Send in the bounty hunter Krrsantan Black,” Vader ordered.

The tall black haired Wookiee entered the room. He let out a growl.

“I’ve heard you’re one of Jabba’s best bounty hunters, track down this man for me, and bring him to me.”

He held up a hologram of the mysterious man with brown hair, a Rodian eye grafted onto one side and robotic eye on the other.

The Wookiee barked a response.

“You’ll have your money, a generous amount if he’s undamaged; and snatch him while he’s offplanet, are you up to the challenge? I need to have a chat with him.”

The Wookiee bowed and left.

“You’re dismissed Lord Speaker,” Vader watched him leave.

“I don’t trust anyone; all of them have a motive for being “helpful”, I need resources, private resources; something they don’t know about. I also need advisors, ones who won’t coat their words with mindless flattery and pleasantries.”

He let his smile grow, he knew just what he wanted, and she couldn’t refuse, besides, he knew she enjoyed mouthing off to him. 

* * *

Arslan looked over at his mother; she hadn’t say anything to him about what the Emperor had done to her.

“I felt it when he hurt you, I felt everything he did to you, I want to kill him!” Arslan snarled.

“Quiet Arslan, the Emperor would kill you, if he doesn’t decide to make you one of his Inquisitors,” she gripped his shoulder.

“I heard the Inquisitors learn the ways of the Force, and how to use a laser sword,” Arslan had heard of the glamorous life of the Inquisitors, they were special people like he was. His mother had told him to hide his Force abilities. He didn’t understand why though.

Padmé glared at him, “The Inquisitors use the Dark Side of the Force, they cause nothing but pain and suffering. I knew and respected Jedi knights during the Clone Wars and whatever Imperial propaganda you’ve heard is a lie. You’d do nothing but hurt people.”

“They also receive money and status if they do well.”

“What about Inquisitors being the military’s attack dogs called into war to strike down the lives people the state tells you are bad!   In the attacks that took the lives of my friends, there were Inquisitors involved, when war comes again are you ready to do the same?”

Arslan gave his mother a determined look, “I don’t want to be chained to the Empire any more than you do, but I’ll do whatever it takes to buy your freedom!”

Padmé sighed.

“Jedi blood isn’t worth a billion Imperial credits, and it’s not worth my freedom, and don’t think that if you became an Inquisitor you’d move up to Sith Apprentice.”

“But Mom, I—” Arslan protested.

“Shhh, someone’s coming!” she hushed him.

The door to their room opened and in stepped Emperor Vader.

They bowed before him.

“With me, both of you,” he gestured quickly.

They followed him to his shuttle.

“Where are we going my Emperor?” Padmé asked quietly.

“Out on private business. I don’t trust the Imperial Ruling council. I need resources, _private_ resources. You two will be among them.”

“I understand why you would choose me, but why Arslan?” she glanced over at him.

“Children are innocent, he has no need to lie to me or political motives and children see things adults cannot. Besides, I need some dissenting voice among my advisors, I despise yes men.”

He glanced at the boy, who shifted nervously.

“Though my power is to make men want to please me, I won’t put it passed any of them to stab me in the back.”

They flew out to the _Perilous_ ; Arslan’s mouth fell open in awe. It was the largest ship he’d ever seen, a Star Destroyer.

They boarded the ship, Vader turned to the Captain, who bowed quickly.

“Captain Juno Eclipse, set your course for the Kallidahin System,” Darth Vader ordered.

“My Emperor, isn’t that a quarantined world, are you sure you want to go there?” Juno asked, she just wanted to make sure that was the location he’d specified.

Padmé noted with surprise that Lord Vader surrounded himself with women, not that she was too surprised, after all, he was handsome, despite his Sith eyes. But the _Perilous_ was his personal Star Destroyer unlike the _Exactor_ which he used on official business.

“Yes,” he sat down in a chair and watched them jump to hyperspace.

“I’m surprised you surround yourself with women,” Padmé commented quietly.

“Oh mom, there’s only _one reason_ why he’d do that,” Arslan scowled.

Darth Vader began to laugh, “You’re far too young to know about such things, little boy. Women are well known for lies and deception, at least I can tell if they’re lying to me or not.”

“You keep them around because they’re pretty,” Padmé glanced at the diverse crewmembers.

“Oh, you could say that, but I’m already keeping myself in good company with a beautiful woman,” he touched her cheek in a gentle manner.

“Boy, you should have someone show you to your sleeping quarters,” he gestured to Arslan.

“Will you be…all right Mom?” he asked.

“No harm will come to your mother, boy, I give you my word,” Vader glanced down at him.

He reached out to the Force, the boy was indeed a Force-Strong individual, it made him even more interested in Padmé, he’d looked into her medical history, he’d noticed her Midichlorian count was higher than an average human, but not high enough for Sith training.

Clovis’ count was average, it was interesting. If Vader could conceive a child with her, they would be very strong with the Force. He could adopt the boy, but he had Clovis’ DNA and Clovis would use that as part of their game.

Still, after the disturbing mind probe there was no way she would consent to him, he’d have to figure out how to obtain her DNA. Still, perhaps he just wanted to have her as company, he didn’t really have any friends, and they were so opposite, he was surprised he wanted to spend his time with her. Perhaps it was their clashing of ideologies that drew him to her.

Meanwhile, he had business to take care of, he needed private resources, and he needed his own private armies, he couldn’t go to Kamino for clones that would tip off other Imperials.

He had the perfect way to get himself an army. Her name was Dr. Aphra; she was a skilled archeologist and technician. And she would get him the droid army he sought.

How come the women were so much more competent than men? He didn’t understand it, but it did amuse him. With his private resources, he would keep the Imperial Ruling Council in line and he could shape the Empire into the utopia that he wished it to be, and the Rebels would have their villainous scapegoat.

Everything was going according to plan.


	4. Private Resources

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darth Vader meets with Xizor and Dr. Aphra tries to steal a droid personality matrix.

This is Arslan Naberrie. He is the illegitimate son of Rush Clovis and Padmé Amidala. He is a slave and he always has been, but he will be free one day.

He wants to make his mother proud of him. He wants to be a good, kind person. But no one is good in the Empire. No one is kind and no one cares for anyone but themselves.

He dreamed of a life outside of slavery. He wanted to join the Imperial Navy, not that he believes in the Empire, the military paid their officers well, and even though he probably wouldn’t be able to buy her freedom, he could at least try to make her life inside the Imperial Palace comfortable.

He wanted freedom more than anything, but he knows it’s a pipedream. Between their basic necessities, they barely have any money and 10,000 Imperial credits is the price of his freedom, it might as well have been a billion, and they barely have enough money to buy food and clothing.

Arslan wonders what it would be like to have a real father, he often observes the Imperials, fathers expect great things of their sons, most of the time family discussions revolve around achieving great things for the glory of the Empire.

His father isn’t a human being; he is a devil that looks like a human. Arslan wants to be a good boy, just like his mother taught him, but he wants Rush Clovis dead. If he’s dead, he can’t hurt his mother anymore, but killing a Senator would mean an execution without trial, the Empire thrives on fear, and they don’t spare you if you’re a child either.

He’s heard the stories, mainly from Imperial officers of how they butchered rebel families, down to the last child, youngling and pup. Just because you were a little kid didn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt you.

There was the one time Arslan had found a discarded coat of an Imperial noble, it had belonged to a child his age and he’d worn it, just to keep warm. He’d received a severe beating for wearing something that didn’t belong to his class. A beating over a stupid coat.

The only reason he wanted to join the Imperial Navy was the pay, his heart could be for the Old Republic, but what did joining the Rebellion get you? Hunted down and slain by the Emperor, the Inquisitors or stormtroopers. His mother’s heart was with them too, but she knew she couldn’t do anything because of Palpatine, she’d been a good citizen and it’d brought her nothing but pain.

So all Arslan can do is watch and wait and hope that something will change.

There are days when he has silly daydreams. Daydreams where he’s a normal boy, attending the Imperial Academy, the ones where he has a real father, one that loves and adores his mother.

Imperials don’t love his mother; she’s just a good kriff to them. They see her as nothing more than a sex object.

When they’d “engage” themselves with his mother, they would force him to sit outside the door and shine their shoes.

How many times had he heard the command, “Go, take these outside and polish them”?

At least all he sees of them is their shoes; his mother has to see _all_ of them.

He’s heard the phrase, “Men, they only think with their equipment.”

That couldn’t be completely true, he’d seen happy families before, when he ran errands traveling the streets of Coruscant, he knew his mother had nieces and he had an aunt and uncle, so not every man was a creepy pervert who wanted to rip his mother’s clothes off.

Then there was the new Emperor, he wasn’t like Palpy at all. He was a lot like the other men, Arslan knew that the Emperor wanted his mother “that way”, but he acted different, he didn’t just boss her around and rape her like the others.

The entire Imperial Palace knew about Rush Clovis’ obsession with his mother, and the rivalry with Lord Vader over her.

Arslan wanted nothing more than for Darth Vader to go away.

It puzzled him, why didn’t he just take what he wanted and leave them alone. That was how it worked with the Imperials and his mother.

Arslan was scared of Vader more than anything, because the Emperor wanted his mother to say “Yes” to him, that he wanted her to be with him, because the Emperor was like everyone else when it came to his mother, they’d toss her out like garbage once they were done.

At least when his mother said “no,” she wasn’t attached to the man in the bed.

The Emperor was not a hedonist, nor was he a notorious womanizer, but he was no paragon of virtue either, he’d had more than one partner, but unlike Xizor, he did not casually dump them and leave them high and dry, Vader’s partners seemed to part with him on good terms, at least that was what the stories said.

Still Vader was a powerful man, and he enjoyed wielding his power over everyone, but that he was interested in his mother, and nothing good ever came of that, ever.

Arslan knew how nobility should act. After all, his mother was from a royal house on Naboo, House Naberrie. She’d taught him to read, write, walk, talk and act like a gentleman.

A gentleman, what a joke, these Imperial scum didn’t know the meaning of the word “gentle” especially when it came to his mother.

But he can’t dwell on his mother and the horrors they’ve gone through. He needs to concentrate on serving the Imperials. He kept his eyes down.

He needs to be s good boy; he _has_ to be a good boy. It’s the only way he can survive life as a slave.

Arslan had to serve Imperial troopers their rations; he walked up and down the tables, serving them their food.

He’s jealous, the food he’s serving them is a feast compared to what he gets to eat every day.

They sneered at him, scoffing at his ragged clothing.

He just keeps busy; he has to, if he thinks too much he won’t be able to move, and he needs something to do or he’ll do something rash and reckless, like murder his “father”.

He’s become very patient, because he will be a free man, and once he’s avenged his mother, all will be right in the world.

Because Rush Clovis will die.

But he needs to think about other things, all the chores he has to do, he mustn’t let people see his true intentions.

He must wear a mask and fool them all.

He’s his mother’s son after all, a master politician. He’ll use his fierce intelligence to his advantage.

Deep down he wants to be a good, kind, caring person, but right now he can’t be that yet, not until his mother is avenged.

He still thinks of himself as a good person, and he is good.

For now.

* * *

 Darth Vader was reading over Imperial Decree A-SL-4557.607.232.

_Slavery in the Empire. It shouldn’t bother me, I am Vader. Vader is no one’s slave!_

It disturbed him the more he thought about it. And slavery was a barrier between him and Padmé.  

Her lack of free will made it almost impossible for him to have her the way he wanted, willingly and free to be with him because she wanted him.

Giving her a command to come to bed with him would be just that, a small, empty command. It would be meaningless, and he didn’t want _them_ to be meaningless.

 _“I’m going to marry you,”_ he remembered the little boy who’d promised her that a long time ago.

_Anakin Skywalker promised her that, not Darth Vader._

He was one and the same, but she would never truly want him, to her he’d always be Imperial scum.

He’d make her remember him, even if he had to pretend to be Anakin Skywalker again, he would make her remember him and his promise to her.

She _would_ be his wife, and he didn’t care if all the Imperial officials tried to assassinate him over her. It wouldn’t matter, because she would be _his_.

And he wouldn’t lose her like he lost Shmi. He wouldn’t lose someone he cared about. Whether it was to Rush Clovis or Prince Xizor.

He only needed to convince her of that, and they could finally be together. Vader had almost lost her to his temper, he would keep it under control, he wouldn’t lose her again. He promised himself that.

As he willed it, so would it be.

* * *

  _Padmé Amidala watched as King Veruna gave a speech trying to control the damage his diplomatic scandal had brought down on Naboo. She knew her people were angry and distrustful of him; it was only a matter of time before he was forced to abdicate the throne._

_She glanced up at him from the crowd._

_“The power of one man doesn’t amount to much. But however little strength I’m capable of I’ll do everything humanly possible to protect the people I love. And in turn they’ll protect the ones they love. It seems the least we tiny humans can do for each other,” Padmé looked over at Sabé._

_“Sounds like a pyramid scheme,” Sabé glanced at her friend. “There’s just one thing, if you hope to eventually protect everyone then you’ll have to figure out a way to stand at the top of the pyramid.” She pointed up at King Veruna._

_“I can only imagine how good it must feel up there Sabé, although, I’ll never be able to find out without all the support I can get. There’s no doubt about that.”_

_“You’re not very subtle you know,” Sabé slapped her on the shoulder. “You have my support, but you could have just asked me. It ought to be fun to watch though, and maybe your naïve idealism will actually do some good.”_

_She gave King Veruna a hard stare._

“Padmé! Padmé get up!” the steward shouted in her ear.

The steward stared at her, “You look like you were in the middle of a very vivid dream.”

“Not really, it was just an old memory.”

“Go inform the Emperor that Prince Xizor has docked the _Falleen’s Fist_ and he is on his way to meet with him!”

“Where is the Emperor?” she stared at the impatient man.

“He’s overseeing the training of the stormtroopers. In the firing range.”

“Yes sir!” Padmé answered hastily. She made her way towards the firing range.

She could hear his Imperial Majesty raging like a storm, his voice booming like thunder.

“I swear, the next person who walks through this door is a better shot than your incompetent men Commander Voca! I expect better of the 501st Legion!”

“These are the troopers under my command my Emperor Vader; it’s the incompetence of the Imperial Academies that is responsible for this, not me!

The door opened and Padmé bowed quickly, “My Lord.”

“Why are you here?” he was pleased to see her, but didn’t let on.

“I have come to inform you that Prince Xizor has arrived and docked his ship the _Falleen’s Fist_ and is on his way to see you.”

“I see, I will meet with him shortly,” Vader crossed his arms. “Tell me Padmé, do you shoot?”

“Y-yes my Emperor,” she replied quickly.

“Voca take the first stormtrooper who missed and tie him to the target!” Vader ordered.

Voca did as he was told.

Padmé swallowed hard, she’d shot a blaster plenty of times, but she’d never taken the life of a sentient being. She’d always shot down battle droids during the Clone Wars.

He handed her the blaster, “Shoot him; he’s insulted me with his incompetence.”

Padmé forced herself to stop shaking, she steadied herself, and aimed for his head, if the poor Imperial sap had to die then at least she’d make it quick for him. She did hate Imperials, but all the poor boy did was miss a target, it wasn’t like he was a Rebel or something. He’d just been training.

She squeezed the trigger. She saw the blaster bolt enter the poor trooper’s helmet, he slumped over dead.

“Impressive, most impressive!” Vader gazed at the corpse, “All of you will achieve that level of marksmanship by the end of the month, or the first who fails to hit the target will suffer his fate at her hands again! Am I understood?”

“Yes my Emperor!” the stormtroopers saluted. They returned to their training.

Two guards removed the body. Padmé knelt down and closed his eyes.

Vader saw her walk over to the corpse, “I’m sorry…” she whispered.

He turned her around to face him, “You no longer have the right to be sorry, remember you belong to me. My every whim, your command. It is not for you to question or regret the results of those commands. You have years ahead of you in my service. You will serve me well.”

He leaned in and kissed her.

The kiss was short and quick, but Vader knew one thing, he wanted more. He smiled. This was the first time he’d stolen a kiss from a woman. He pulled away quickly and walked off, leaving her alone.

After all, he had to meet with; he gritted his teeth, Prince Xizor. He’d rather be on the receiving end of one of Padmé’s rants about the good and noble Old Republic than hear Xizor speak to him. Still, he had to meet with him, and there was not getting out of it.

Darth Vader composed his face into a look of that appeared to be warm and friendly. He stepped into the room.

“Prince Xizor, welcome,” Vader greeted him with a false smile, he had always hated the Dark Prince, whether it was for the favor of Palpatine or their taste in women, they’d always been hated rivals.

“I am at your service my Emperor; I assume we’re here to discuss your order for more Star Destroyers.”

Yes, Xizor, about 300 ships, will that suit you?”

“Yes, my Emperor, I am always happy to assist the Empire.”

Xizor crossed his arms, “I have heard rumors swirling that you wish to be married.”

Vader laughed, “Married? Me? Who started such rumors?”

“I heard it from Senator Bremack who heard it from Senator Clovis.”

“So _that’s_ his ploy, he shouldn’t play games with me!”

Xizor smiled, his green skin seemed to darken, “Is this regarding Padmé Amidala? I’ve been with her…a few times.”

Vader let his displeasure show.

Vader was inwardly seething, so _both_ of his hated rivals had bedded her, he would make both of them pay. She should have been _his_ and his alone. The way they spoke it seemed she was damaged goods, why had his Master never given her to him? What made her so special that the lowly Imperial Officers had their way with her, but not him? If anyone deserved to have someone so beautiful it should have been _him_.

They’d backed him into a corner, he couldn’t woo her and seduce her like every woman he’d pursued. She’d just view him as lowly Imperial scum. And he wouldn’t settle for that, he wanted their feelings to be mutual, he wanted her to want him, just as he wanted her. How was he supposed to do that when she’d only be with him out of obligations to keep him happy as his slave, not as his lover?

It was a no-win situation, no matter what he did; she would not choose him of her own free will. His only comfort was that neither Xizor nor Rush Clovis had enough money to buy her, besides; Xizor enjoyed engaging his human replica droid Guri far more than humanoid females.

"By Imperial law, when the Emperor takes a wife, she becomes his property, obliged to obey his every word and bow down before him whenever he wishes a show of obedience." Xizor noted with interest.

Surely this was just about having someone bend to Darth Vader’s will. It always was about his power.

“You mean that Dark Book of imperial justice rubbish? The Prophets of the Dark Side try continually to bend me to their will,” Vader laughed. “If I wanted to marry a droid, I can always buy that lovely Guri of yours. Not that I would, I still don’t understand how you’re…attracted to it.”

“My personal tastes are none of your business my Emperor, besides, what do you care about who or what I take to bed?”

“I don’t care as long as it’s not something that belongs to me,” Vader glanced over at him.

“Come now my friend, the entire Imperial Court knows that you’re displeased with Senator Clovis, and that this rivalry is over the former Naboo Senator.”

Xizor drank some Blossom Wine, “Why not just take her to bed and be done with it, sate your needs, she won’t refuse you.”

“You use your pheromones to get what you want out of women, you and Clovis have it easy because you just take what you want, unlike you, I hold women in a very high regard,” Vader pointed a finger at him. “Besides, chasing the unattainable is…interesting.”

Xizor glanced over at him, “Why are you so preoccupied by the former Senator Amidala? Why do you want her so badly? And of her own free will?”

“I find her fascinating, that’s why I want her.”

“I see, well, I wish you luck in that endeavor Lord Vader,” Xizor smiled. He wasn’t about to get involved in this crazy game, not that it wouldn’t be easy to bend the former Senator to his will, but, he just wanted to watch Vader fall on his face in humiliation when the former Senator rejected him.

It will be so amusing to watch Vader crash and burn.

“I take my leave of you now, my Emperor,” Xizor bowed. He’d noticed the devastated looked on Vader’s face when he told him that he’d been with the Senator, he remembered the encounter well, it had been one of the times she’d come out of the spice haze and fought him, even his pheromones were useless against her, he’d still managed to get off on the experience, but he’d made sure that she was given extra spice before he had her again.

He would have gone back again, had that brat of hers not attacked him with a hydrospanner.

He’d ordered the boy flogged after that, and he had lost his desire for the slave after that, he had other things to do besides frivolous trysts with a drugged woman.

He’d sit back, watch, and enjoy he show. It’d only be a matter of time before Vader was dead and _he_ was the Emperor, especially with the Rebellion which none couldn’t competently quell or stamp out. It would all belong to Xizor and Black Sun soon enough.

Vader read Xizor’s thoughts easily. He wouldn’t let the Black Sun crime lord get the best of him; Vader would beat him at his own games just as he would Rush Clovis.

He made his way through the ship. He saw the slaves and was disturbed, not because of their status as slaves, but because they were dressed in rags that barely stayed on their bodies.

He was angry; they were dressed poorly and barely fed. Angry slaves revolted against their masters. Revolting slaves ended up dead, and that cost money to replace, a great deal of money.

They also reflected poorly on him. The Emperor of the galaxy, too stingy to take care of his property. His steward was an incompetent man who couldn’t even run his household.  

He called the steward to him, “Why are the slaves in such a sorry state?”

“My Emperor, my work keeps me quite busy and your household staff is vast, I haven’t the time to make sure they’re all fed and clothed properly.”

“And yet you have no such troubles keeping _yourself_ fed and clothed.” Vader raised his fist. “You work for _me_ , steward, and your poor performance reflects on _me_.   You have failed me for the last time!”

Arslan watched him in fascination and horror. He knew Darth Vader was a bad man, and that he didn’t kill the steward because he cared about slaves. He killed the poor guy because he made Vader look bad to the public.

The man clawed at his throat, gasped and slumped the ground with one last wheeze.

Two stormtroopers came and removed the body.

He frowned, now he would need a new steward.

“My Emperor, we captured a smuggler and we were transferring him to Coruscant, but we have no room onboard the ship, permission to bring him aboard.”

They dragged the man in. Vader couldn’t hide his surprise. It was his childhood friend Kitster Banai.

“Release him, and expunge his criminal record, he is a personal friend and I have need of him.”

The officers raised their eyebrows in surprise, but did as he requested.

“Is is that you Anakin?” Kitster asked when they were alone.

“I am no longer called Anakin Skywalker, but yes, I am the man you knew long ago.”

“Emperor of the galaxy, you, you never wanted that, you wanted to be a pilot, traveling the mainlines all across the stars.”

“A foolish dream, I found a better one, this way I can make the galaxy the way I wish it to be.”

“And yet you own slaves,” Kitster pointed out.

“What of it?” Vader asked dismissively.

“Permission to speak frankly and not be killed for it?”

“Speak plainly old friend, it’s why I want you around.”

“You’re a hypocrite, you wanted to free slaves, not enslave others, Anakin.”

“That was the dreams of a foolish little boy,” Vader spat.

“That foolish little boy was my best friend.”

“I know Kitster, perhaps one day I’ll free all my slaves, unfortunately, I have a reputation to uphold, I can’t be seen as weak.”

“I don’t understand you at all anymore.”

“I’ve changed over the years, but I do want to offer you a job,” Anakin held out his hand, “Be the steward, the majordomo of the Imperial Palace.”

“What happened to your last steward?” Kitster asked.

“He disappointed me, so I killed him.”

“And how do I know you’re not going to do that to me?”

“You could never disappoint me Kitster, you never did.”

“Very well, I accept, and I’ll still be able to speak my mind?”

“I suggest you make a habit of it old friend,” Vader clapped him on the back.

“Anakin…I have a family,” Kitster added quickly. “I’ll want them to come with me.”

“Of course, of course, bring them to Coruscant with you!” he gave him a smile. “I would enjoy meeting them.”

He escorted Kitster to where the staff was and instructed one of the other servants to show him around.

“Anything you want me to do?” Kitster asked.

“Make sure the slaves are given adequate food and clothing, and keep them happy.”

“Happy, like slaves can be happy,” the former slave smirked.

“Happy slaves accept food, shelter and work more than freedom and having nothing.”

“You’re awful, you know that?” Kitster sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yes, I know.” Vader turned and left.

“My Emperor,” Juno Eclipse’s voice spoke through a speaker. “We have arrived at the Kallidahin System.”

“Very good Captain, await my return,” he ordered and ended the communication. He found Padmé and ordered her to come with him.

“Why am I coming along?” she asked.

“Because I want you to,” Vader replied. Together, they walked toward a modified two-man TIE fighter. She’d never seen that before.

They boarded in silence and she wondered why she was even there.

* * *

“Hmm,” Dr. Aphra said to herself as she stared into an apparently empty room. “Surveillance already bypassed. Guns, no visible triggers.”

Dr. Aphra was an archeologist, she searched for weapons and got them for whoever wanted them, it was a fun, exciting job, but she did end up in Imperial prisons from time to time, fortunately, the charges never seemed to stick. She was very grateful for that.

“Just an empty room,” Aphra looked inside. “Perfectly safe to walk in, I’m sure…” she removed something from her utility belt. “Heh. Let’s get a second opinion from a personal friend of mine I like to call, “Antique Steal Microdroid Dust…”

She held out her hand and blew some of the red dust into the air.  

The little microdroids illuminated the air with small red lights.

“So, boys Can I get through?” she asked them as she began crawling on her belly towards the safe. “just.” Barely. Through. She made it to the other side, avoiding the alarm security beams.

She opened the safe. “Well, hello, Triple-Zero Personality Matrix, you are looking _delightful_ this evening.” Aphra picked it up and began to make her way across the room.

The beams are moving up and down and Dr. Aphra’s trying to keep track of them all. Unfortunately, she’s forgotten the one right in front of her face, she crawls right into it.

_Oh kriff me!_

She vocalizes something else however, “Oh son of a—”

Now the alarm’s gone off and it’s time to run away faster than lightspeed to avoid the security system that’s firing at her, She turns a corner and suddenly, she hears a ceiling panel drop and out comes a giant rolling droideka!

Dr. Aphra managed to dive through a closing door before the droid ran over her. She came to a rolling stop.

She took a deep breath and wiped her mouth.

“Dr. Aphra…” a voice spoke to her. “…You are an irresponsible and troublesome woman.”

Dr. Aphra held out her blaster and the Personality Matrix chip the super battle droid confiscated her blaster.

“Hey, Utani Xane, you’re working here?” she asked the Kallidahin, “Why am I not surprised?”

“I’m equally unsurprised to find you setting off the alarms,” Utani Xane added, “There’s a reason why the Triple-Zero Matrix has been quarantined for _Centuries_.”

The super battle droids grabbed her hands and placed them in binders behind her back.

“Yes. Because of people like _you_. Small minds who just want to hide beautiful things in storage or a museum,” Aphra snapped angrily, her brown eyes flashed. “ _It should be in an armory_!”

The Kallidahin examined the Personality Matrix chip. “And you should be in prison. Again. Maybe this time it’ll stick.”

“Curator Utani Xane...” the super battle droid spoke, “…incoming TIE fighter.”

Padmé and Vader exited the TIE fighter, he handed her a blaster.

“Don’t even try to shoot me in the back,” he instructed.

“I’m not stupid, my Emperor,” she’d have her head decapitated before she could even get a shot off anyway.

They walked towards a small group of super battle droids surrounding a woman.

“Lord Vader, this is a quarantine world,” Utani Xane explains. “Treaties clearly state that—”

“Enough,” Vader raised his hand. Three of the super battle droids went flying over the edge and down into the abyss.

“Lord Vader!” Utani Xane exclaimed as he held up his hands in a placating gesture. The super battle droids opened fire on him.

Dr. Aphra started getting herself out of the binders.

Vader and Padmé slowly approached a black-haired, brown-eyed woman. Apparently, this was the person Emperor Vader was looking for. She appeared to be in her early to mid twenties.

 _At least he likes them pretty, oh Shiraya, don’t let Lord Vader be one of_ those _creeps who likes them_ way _younger than he is!_ Padmé thought as she raised the blaster he’d given her and fired on the super battle droids. She watched the one in front of her fall down, its brain fried from blaster fire.

Utani Xane started to run as Vader cut down a super battle droid behind him. Dr. Aphra tackled him to the floor and he let go of the Triple-Zero Personality Matrix.

It bounced on the platform and she made a dive for it, “Gimme tha—!” Aphra shouted as it went over the edge. “Oh no!” Hanging by one hand, she managed to catch it. “Gotcha!”

She struggled to pull herself up. Padmé was far too busy shooting at droids to help her up.

Utani Xane tried to push himself to his feet, only he pushed himself into Vader’s downturned lightsaber. He let out a “Guuk” sound as he died.

Vader stepped over and reached down to the rogue archeologist just as Padmé finished off the last super battle droid.

Padmé looked down at the archeologist with interest. Dr. Aphra was surprised, looking up at them; she could have sworn they were married or something, the way they worked together so well. Darth Vader, married? Nah!

She could see the Emperor’s handsome face staring down at her, except for his eyes, his eyes gave her the shivers.

“Dr. Aphra. I have need of you,” Darth Vader said as he extended his hand to her.

The Emperor himself, wow, what a crazy day this was!

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dr. Aphra reacttivates droids and Padmé contegmplates her past. Commander Ciena Ree gives Vader aedvice about what the Emperor wants in a wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of me thinks Rookeiz Is Punk’d has some Star Wars fans in their band. The Lyrics for “In My World” feel like they’re for Star Wars and not Blue Exorcist, which is where the song comes from! Just look at the lyrics!
> 
> You can buy “In My World” on Amazon and iTunes.
> 
> I’m also happy to deconstruct fan notions of what Lucas said about Jedi not being celibate. Fan notions concerning this subject are...weird.
> 
> Pulling a lot of dialogue from Marvel Comics’ Darth Vader #3.
> 
> I've seen the new trailer! I fangirled!

Darth Vader and Padmé Amidala boarded Dr. Aphra's ship. The Ark Angel was a unique vessel. Padmé could certainly tell the owner was a woman; most men didn't paint their ships like she did.

"Welcome aboard the Ark Angel, Sir Lord Vader," she glanced over at Padmé "and companion. Big fan, huge. How can I help?"

Darth Vader glanced at her. "This is private business. I recently destroyed some of your reactivated droids. They impressed me."

Dr. Aphra gestured in front of her to a nearby room, ushering him in, "Thank you Mr. Lord Vader."

They made their way inside. Padmé noticed she had a blaster rifle on a rack and a wooden table on the other side of the room.

"Sir? Your Majesty? Your Illustriousness?" Dr. Aphra searched for the right honorific. "Honestly, I have no idea. I'm a rogue archeologist, not a protocol droid. Getting the right protocol droid is the reason I was here…"

Dr. Aphra glanced back and Vader, "How did you find me, anyway?"

Vader glanced at her; it involved a few interrogations and killing them to cover hhis tracks. From a bar owner to an assassin droid. It didn't take him long to find her, and he'd found some Death Star plans along the way.

"Actually, I don't want to know, do I?" she opened the door to another room.

She walked inside and made her way over to her computer. Dr. Aphra placed the droid personality matrix on the scanner and began typing furiously.

"This is the Triple-Zero personality matrix. Had a few bugs. Twitchy coupling. Nerucybernetic glitches. Tendency to drain organics to collect their blood. That kind of thing."

"I didn't really want to know that," Padmé muttered.

"But it speaks languages no one else knows so that's why I need..Problem is, that it's code-locked. It'll take me a few hours to break in so I can set that to work, and then see what I can do to help you...then…"

Vader strode forward and began typing commands into the computer. Using the Force to help him break the code.

"What are you doing?" Aphra asked, surprised.

Aphra leaned over to look at the screen. "You've unlocked it. You didn't have the codes. How…how did you do that?"

Darth Vader crossed his arms, glancing over at the screen, then he turned his gaze to Padmé noting that she only glanced around the room, but kept an eye on him.

Aphra pointed over at the deactivated protocol droid she kept in a compartment. "You…are even more interesting than I could have hoped for, Sir Vader."

" _Lord_ Vader," he corrected. "Continue."

"Okay, let's get you installed…" Dr. Aphra pulled out he droid and opened up the back of its head. She placed the personality matrix inside and reactivated him.

Its eyes glowed and eerie red.

"Oh, hello," he greeted them.

"I'm 0-0-0, or Triple-Zero, if you prefer. I'm a protocol droid, specialized in etiquette, customs, translation, and torture, ma'am," Triple-Zero stated.

Triple-Zero extended his hand, "Charmed to meet you, I'm sure."

He extended his hand to her.

"Override: Imprint, "Master" on all individuals present. Codename: Vader, code name: Aphra and Codename: Padmé."

"Ah, better shake hands then. May route a fatal shock through my palm. Old habits die hard, and all that."

"And in my experience, they certainly die harder than most organics, ma'am. As there's no one presently here to murder presently, how may I be of assistance?"

"You tell this boy to wake up," Dr. Aphra instructed.

"All this for a little astromech?" Vader queried curiously.

"Not exactly, this is BT-1, a "blastromech" prototype," Aphra explained. Does enough to pass as an astro, but it's a cover. It's a specialized assassin droid."

Dr. Aphra looked at the deactivated droid. "Sadly, it's entirely homicidal. Wiped out it's Tarkin Initiative base before setting it to self destruct and jettisoning itself into space…"

"The programmer was an idiot," Padmé muttered, Vader raised his eyebrow in amusement.

"I found it, fitted it with some strong behavioral inhibitors but can't get it to wake up. The core identity only speaks the R&D language of the base—that disappeared along with it."

"Ah! And I was also a product of the good Sir Tarkin's Initiative, and I am entirely fluent with all internal test languages," Triple-Zero exclaimed. "This is wonderful Mistress Aphra."

"Then get dumpy Gunboy up and about," Dr. Aphra ordered.

Triple-Zero tapped BT-1 on the head, "BT-1, get up." he spoke in the droid's language.

It suddenly activated, it's eye glowing as did the weapons it was armed with, from the small submachine blaster to openings where he could shoot out flames, to some sort of mini missile launcher of some sort.

Vader activated his lightsaber, he wasn't about to die a meaningless death because of a tiny assassin droid.

"BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!" the blastromech beeped loudly; Padmé saw it begin glowing as it prepared to light them on fire or fire blasters and missiles at them, whichever came first.

No, BT-1! You can't! They are our new masters!" Triple-Zero held up his hands in protest. He tapped the droid on the head. "Also, who would clean up the mess?"

Dr. Aphra slumped against a wall, burying her face in her hands.

"Well, that's another activation survived." Dr. Aphra felt a wave of relief wash over her.

"…But _who_ am I talking to? This must be a quiet day for you. Fitting in a meeting with me before going back to your busy schedule of applying jackboot to the throat of Rebels eh?"

Vader frowned, why did he have to be stuck with a talker?

"You are…overly fond of speaking," he noted.

"I'm nervous," Dr. Aphra replied. "I make my living reactivating droids like this pair…and _you_ make me nervous. She kept her head in her hands. She finally looked up, clutching her shoulders. "What do you want from me?"

"I need resources of my own. Private resources."

Dr. Aphra slowly got to her feet, "I was abstractly meant to deliver these two to the Droid Gotra, they had another mission lined up…but you're my next mission, aren't you? And the next. And the next."

She looked him in the eye. You're what I've been looking for all my life."

The Emperor was amused by her flattery, but didn't say anything.

Aphra turned around, putting on her flight helmet. "Whoa. That just gave me shivers. Then these are yours. What else do you need?"

"I need troops of unquestioning loyalty," Vader replied.

"Hey, I understand," Dr. Aphra began glancing at her nav computer screen. "Who wouldn't want a phalanx f carefully restored battle droids…"

She punched in some information. "…I know where to find them. The Droid Gotra wanted me to recover an.…unusual droid factory. It's under close watch by you Imperials—plus not –exactly- friendly locals. Best bet…how do you feel about a secret mission to Geonosis, Lord Vader."

"I have no feelings regarding Geonosis," Vader replied.

"Good. Then we need to move," Aphra said quickly. "I won't let you down."

"Wise, Aphra. That would be a mistake."

Lord Vader glanced over at Padmé, "Clean the droids up as best you can. I will summon you if needed."

He turned and left the two women alone.

"So you're _her_ , huh?" Dr. Ahra glanced at Padmé.

"What do you mean by " _her_ " and in what context?" the former Senator looked at the archeologist curiously.

"Senator Padmé Amidala, former ruler of the Naboo, former Imperial Senator, member of the Delegation of 2,000 and "The Emperor's Hospitality", oh, you don't like that last title I see, I have many guesses of what it means, and I'm also a woman, so there's really only one conclusion isn't there? Forced prostitution, right?"

Padmé's shoulders slumped. "You think I actually get _paid_?"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to bring it up."

"Not your fault really, but how do you know so much about me?"

"Rush Clovis, he tried to hire me to kidnap you, called you a "political weapon". I told him to kriff off, I don't steal people, especially not for someone like _him_. Steal from Palpatine? He's crazy!"

Padmé smiled, Vader hadn't seen her smile in a long time. He forgot how dazzling it was. "Thank you."

"You got a kid right?" Aphra inquired.

"Yes, he's back on the _Perilous_ waiting for me."

"I see."

"So Dr. Where are we going?"

"Geonosis," Aphra replied.

"Oh, back to the beginning eh?"

"The Clone Wars started there."

"I know, I was there when it happened," Padmé reminded her.

"Oh yeah, I remember now, you were there too. Some sort of diplomatic meltdown."

"That's one way of putting it," Padmé got up. "If you'll excuse me, his Imperial Majesty wants me to clean up your droids."

She glanced over at BT-1, "Eh, he won't light me on fire, right?"

"Oh no, we've designated you as his master, along with myself and Lord Vader," Aphra reassured her.

"Phew! At least I'm not going up in flames! Unlike my career!" Padmé joked.

They both managed to laugh. "Let's be friends, what do you say?" Padmé asked.

"Why not? Besides, you've got Clone Wars stories, and I highly doubt Lord Vader's the type to tell stories."

"I wall, after I finish my chores," Padmé left to clean Vader's new droids. She was remindd of Artoo Deetoo, her personal astromech droid, she wondered if his memory was intact and if she'd ever see him again. She sighed, taking her mind off her troubles by singing a song in her native Naboo, something that had come to her out of her long, hard years as Emperor Palpatine's slaves.

_Dark side in my heart is_   
_A sorrowful past you can't wipe away_   
_It's all right...I don't mean it_   
_Unleashing a blaster, I reached out my hand_   
_My Life_   
_The inescapable path—when did it become like this?_   
_And now everyone is gone…_

_I don't give a shit about fate_   
_Can't take it anymore…_   
_Cry for pride_   
_Ah ah ah, alone in my world_   
_A resonating song of love_   
_Twisted world, warped wishes_   
_Ideals and tomorrows, all crumbling away_   
_So sick of it all, and the unbearable boredom_   
_Goodbye precious life_

_I swear I'm gonna change my fate_   
_Get battered and bruised…_   
_Try for pride_   
_Ah ah ah, alone in my world_   
_Still gonna sing of love_   
_Distorted world, wishes to be fulfilled…_   
_I'm gonna build a bond and a new tomorrow_   
_Sick of it all, but it's still precious to me_   
_It's my precious life_

_Dark cloud in my heart is_   
_Pierced by a light, the sky is clear_   
_Let's fight…I have no fears_   
_I brandished a double-edged sword_

She continued her cleaning and maintenance of BT-1 and 0-0-0, she kept her hands kept steady as she continued clean the droids, no one bothered her for anything and after she was done with the droids she retired to her small sleeping quarters, she tried to visit Dr. Aphra, but the young woman said she was too busy.

Padmé's mind drifted back to the past, to better days, ironic when the Clone Wars were her better days. Fighting for the Republic with everything she had. Her life had been so eventful and different, now it felt like a distant dream.

The Military Creation act, the assassination attempt on her life. The Jedi Padawan Theron Shan…

Theron Shan, Roan Shryne's Padawan learner had been assigned to protect her. Their relationship had been innocent enough, strictly professional.

She'd tried to keep it at that level, but there had been something about him that made her want more.

Not that she'd get into a romantic relationship with him of course, she admired the Jedi Code and their loyalty to the Order above all else.

Still, what and who would it hurt really? She was still young and she could indulge her personal desires once in awhile.

After all one night with a handsome Jedi Knight was hardly scandal worthy; after all, the Order didn't tout celibacy as one of their tenants. It wasn't like she was bribing him with sex for a favor from the Jedi. She just wanted to have something for herself for once.

And surprisingly, so did Theron. He'd consented, it wasn't like they were in love or something, after all, it was just one night where they could ignore everyone else and have something for themselves and be a little selfish for once.

So they'd slept together. It had most certainly been an enjoyable experience for both of them. They woke up the next day, she'd thanked him for the experience and then they'd gone back to their respective roles.

And true to form Theron remained unattached to her, adhering to the Jedi Code.

He didn't form an attachment to her, it was the Jedi way.

Padmé Amidala had unintentionally formed an emotional attachment to him. She wouldn't call it love; that would hurt both of them too much. Either he wouldn't return her feelings, which was highly likely, or he would and she would destroy his future in the Order, but she cared for the young Jedi knight very much, and she wouldn't let it be anything other than that.

That was before the war.

Then the Clone Wars began, she'd been there when she'd tried unsuccessfully to negotiate with Count Dooku for the release of Obi-Wan Kenobi, she remembered him from the Blockade Crisis on Naboo.

Unfortunately, the negotiations failed and they falsely accused her of espionage. They'd sentenced them to die.

They hadn't said much, there wasn't anything to say, really.

They managed to hold off the beasts long enough until 200 Jedi arrived to rescue them.

Then it happened, Theron was shot down by a hail of blaster fire. He died in her arms. She blamed herself for it, and pondered it in her heart for a long time, if she hadn't tried to rescue her friend, he wouldn't have died.

Padmé hadn't taken note of Anakin Skywalker, the chaos of the battle had kept her preoccupied with surviving and staying alive, but she'd heard stories of his exploits later in the war.

The Clone Wars had kept her busy, constantly engaging in diplomacy, trying to giving aid to war torn planets.

But War returned to Naboo, and she had volunteered to lead the armies, the voluntary security forces and the Gungan Grand Army.

Out on the open plain, riding a Kadu, she gazed out at the vast droid army before them.

"Three weeks from now, I will be doing paperwork on Coruscant, and preparing another speech for the Senate. Imagine where you will be, and it will be so. Hold the line! Stay with me!" she shouted to the Gungans.

"If you find yourself alone, riding in green fields with the sun upon your face, do not be troubled. For you are in the afterlife! And you're already dead!"

Gungans and Naboo alike burst out laughing.

"What we do in life echoes in eternity!" she shouted to them, "On my signal, unleash hell!"

The battle was joined, the fiercest battle Naboo had ever experienced in their history, it was unusual for Senators to lead troops, but she insisted she help them.

It was a long, hard fought battle on multiple fronts, but they destroyed the CIS droid armies, and she had once again, been hailed a hero.

Padmé gave a sad sigh, it was sad when your dreams are better than reality. She drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Commander Ciena Ree glanced up in surprise at the Emperor approached her.

"I'm at your service my Emperor," she bowed quickly.

"Tell me Commander Ree, your bond with your lover Thane Kyrell, how did you meet?" Vader asked curiously.

She was stunned he knew about Thane, Thane Kyrell had defected to the Rebel Alliance months ago. Romantic relationships between Imperial officers was forbidden, and yet the Emperor himself wasn't angry with her for having a relationship with someone who was now a traitor to the Empire.

"My Emperor, we bonded over our love of flying, we used to steal his brother Daven's V-171 and go flying whenever we could, we were so close back then, but now, he's changed…ah, don't listen to me, I just miss him, even though I shouldn't."

"I have taken up too much of your time, thank you Commander; you've given me much to think about."

"What's on your mind, my Emperor?" Ciena asked curiously.

"just call me Lord Vader," he nodded. "Well, there are rumors that I wish to get married, I have decided to quash them by doing so, it's just hard for me ot think of who I would want to spend the rest of my life with."

"Well, Lord Vader, people do get divorces these days," Ciena replied.

"Yes they do, but I am far too high profile and I will not have a scandal break out over any bride I would choose, I'm just thinking about what I would want."

"What do you want?" Commander Ree prodded.

"Someone…I could talk to, someone to share my dreams, someone who would always be loyal to me, and perhaps, a pretty face as well."

"Well I'm sure you'll have women lining up at the Imperial Palace." Ciena laughed. "perhaps the Force will bring you someone special."

"You believe in the Force?" Vader asked, amused. Not many people did, his Master made sure of that. He didn't mention the Dark Side, not many beings knew he was a Sith Lord, best to leave that part out.

"Yes, I do, now I don't know anything about the Jedi stuff, but I do believe that it can bring two people together, I believe it brought me to Thane," Ciena smiled, "I'm sure it will bring you to the person you're looking for."

"Thank you, Commander and do keep this a secret between us," Vader nodded.

"Of course, my Emperor, I promise and once I've made a promise I keep it."

"Good," Vader turned and walked away.

Ciena Ree had given him a brilliant idea of how to find his Empress. Midichlorians. He would find a suitable bride with a high Midichlorian count, not high enough for Sith training, Sith spouses never ended well, but if she was strong in the Force that meant his child would be strong in the Force. A dynasty of Sith Emperors for a thousand years.

He'd have to have other criteria as well. An attractive appearance, someone astute in politics, at least enough where he could manipulate them without her knowing it, easy to talk to, and good in bed, that would be important for him to conceive a son with her.

It'd take him awhile, after all, he had to decide if he could stand being around them, six months to a year, he supposed, but once this bride business was out of the way, he could get himself a bride and quash Rush Clovis' marriage rumors.

Then he could get back to the business of seducing Padmé Amidala. Having a Mistress on the side sounded exciting. It would be a forbidden relationship, but that was half the fun.

It was the reason he found Ciena's relationship with Thane to be so interesting, and that's what he needed in his life right now, something to keep his life interesting.


End file.
